


Batshit

by acciohollymae



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 09:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14102352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciohollymae/pseuds/acciohollymae
Summary: Clark Kent is a really, really bad barista who meets a muscular man in an ugly shirt. And thus, Justice League is born. A one-act play.





	Batshit

**Author's Note:**

> Madison, the peachiest of PhD candidates, requested Superman garbage and... I know nothing about Superman. I don't even like superheroes. I am truly sorry for what you're about to witness.

BATSHIT

* * *

 

A One Act Play

Cast of Characters

SUPERMAN : The most powerful being on planet Earth: more powerful than your mother or any U.S. Marine. Raised with high moral ideals, he uses his incredible strength, speed, flight, and various other superpowers to fight anyone who tells him his cooking is bad. In his civilian identity he is CLARK KENT, a mild-mannered baker with some tiny ass glasses.

BATMAN : A superhero protector dressed like a bat who fights against himself, mostly. He strikes terror into the hearts of puritans everywhere. In his secret identity he is BRUCE WAYNE, billionaire playboy and notorious… person. Although he has no superlative powers, he is one of the world’s dirtiest men and greatest tattoo artists. His physical dominance and technical difficulties make him an incredibly hated opponent.

ACT I

Scene 1

SETTING: We are in the bakery shop owned by CLARK KENT: it is a shockingly clean postmodern storefront in Metropolis. The lack of customers, however, hints at a more sinister story. The entire room is taken up by a counter with stools - the kind of stools you would find if you were to visit a bar that only serves gin from fishbowls. A large cardboard cutout of SUPERMAN with its eyes hollowed out is the last thing you’d expect to find inside a patisserie, but here it is. The effect is goosebump worthy.

CLARK KENT is asleep while standing up behind the counter. He is holding today’s copy of the  _ Daily Planet _ , but its pages slowly flutter to the floor as he dozes off. On closer inspection we see CLARK is wearing an Oxford shirt three sizes too small for him and a pair of reading glasses surely meant for a novelty porcelain doll. BRUCE WAYNE, who owns the tattoo parlor next door, opens the front door to the shop. BRUCE is wearing a ragged sleeveless shirt that simply reads “Batshit.”

CLARK

(shouting in alarm)

Lex Luthor’s tits! You’re cruisin for a bruisin, you tasteless beatnik!

 

(CLARK balls his hands into fists, crushing the remaining newspaper pages in his hand into a fine powder. The effort of flexing his arms absolutely shreds his shirtsleeves to pieces. BRUCE raises his hands in surrender, visibly shaken by the encounter.)

 

BRUCE

Hey, hey there! No need for alarm, I’m just here to get some biscotti hard enough to break every damn last one of my teeth.

 

CLARK

(lowering his fists ashamedly)

Ah, shit nuggets, I’m sorry. Should’ve known better than to come to work without sleeping for the last month.

 

BRUCE

No sleep? I feel you pal, which is why I’m hoping you also serve coffee. I’d kill for a latte about now.

 

CLARK

Oh, yeah, coffee. Sure. I’ll just... go heat up some of those tangy beans. On the house, pretty boy. I owe you one—— several, actually.

 

(CLARK tentatively positions himself behind the espresso machine, and it becomes apparent that he has an even more tentative grasp on how to operate such a device. BRUCE looks away from CLARK in embarrassment, and he sways on his feet as he debates fleeing the scene until he spots the latest  _ Daily Planet _ headline, “Metropolis: No Fan of Bat Man.”)

 

BRUCE

(sighing)

Oh come on, by Mr. Freeze’s blue balls... it’s one word, not two.

 

CLARK

(over the sound of the espresso machine)

What’s that, Biscotti Boy?

 

BRUCE

(louder)

It’s just... this newspaper. Batman is one word, not two.

 

CLARK

Bat who? Don’t know her.

 

BRUCE

You don’t know...?

 

CLARK

Kidding, course I know. It’s all Metropolis is talking about. Masked muscular man comes into town, everyone knows. Metropolis is... a horny city.

 

(CLARK grimaces as he delivers the finished drink to BRUCE. CLARK’s now-bare shoulders slouch in defeat as he glances at his excuse for artistry. Intending to draw a heart in the foam, the completed design is noticeably more phallic in nature.)

 

BRUCE

You don’t say.

 

CLARK

(blushing)

But what do I know, hmm? I’m just a country boy hoping for his big break. You would not believe the monopoly on food in this town.

 

BRUCE

(reluctantly taking the cup, fingers brushing up against CLARK’s)

So what do you think of him?

 

CLARK

(looking BRUCE up and down)

I think he needs better taste when choosing breakfast places... and shirts.

 

BRUCE

I meant, what do you think of Batman? And you’re one to talk about shirts.

 

CLARK

Meh, same difference. I’d like to see that monochromatic, melodramatic, sculpted abs disaster walk in here someday.

 

BRUCE

(Sipping, then immediately struggling to not spit out his latte)

Yeah well, city this big, you never know who you’ll meet.

 

CLARK

Thing is, you have to think of Batman as a man in a costume no matter what. But there’s something extraordinary about him, too. He pulls out a gadget from that bulky looking belt and you can tell he’s smarter than he looks.

 

BRUCE

Never thought of it like that. But what’s the deal with Mr. Cardboard over there?

 

(BRUCE gestures at the Superman cutout behind him, taking the brief lapse in CLARK’s attention to pour his completely undrinkable coffee into a nearby potted plant.) 

 

CLARK

Oh, him? Always looked up to the guy. He inspired me to move here and chase my bliss, even if that means being the owner of a struggling two-star bakery.

 

BRUCE

He scares the hell out of me. Looks human, but shoots lasers and fire out of the sky? Sounds more like a god to me. I don’t like it.

 

CLARK

(raising an eyebrow)

Maybe he wouldn’t like you, either.

 

BRUCE

(taking out his wallet, which is attached to his pants with a chain)

That’s alright, he wouldn’t be the first. Look, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the drink, and I insist you keep this.

 

(BRUCE walks away)

 

CLARK

Batshit, I don’t know your name and I don’t need a $69 tip.

 

BRUCE

(winking)

Keep telling yourself that. Now go buy yourself a bigger shirt, courtesy of Bruce Wayne.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked _whatever_ this is, leave me a comment. If I've ruined these characters for you forever... maybe keep that one to yourself.


End file.
